


if the world was ending, you'd come over (right?)

by thethingaboutashis



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, For no reason, M/M, Song Lyrics, and I think I succeeded, i just wanted to write something sad, like literally so sad, sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethingaboutashis/pseuds/thethingaboutashis
Summary: When the earth begins to tremble, Calum and Michael can only think about each other.based entirely on the verses of "If the World Was Ending" by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Kudos: 8





	if the world was ending, you'd come over (right?)

**Author's Note:**

> this is ridiculously sad and purposely repetitive. enjoy this mess I wrote in less than 24 hours.

Calum pushes down on the center of his car’s steering wheel hard, letting the horn blare for a solid five seconds before letting it go with a sigh. He’s been sitting in a particularly nasty traffic jam for the last fifty-seven minutes and he’s about three more away from abandoning his car there and just walking the rest of the way home. He runs a hand over his face tiredly, coming to rest on his buzzed head. 

Calum is a patient man, he thinks. He normally doesn’t care much for traffic or long drives, usually content to sit in his car as long as he can listen to some good music and maybe roll down the windows to enjoy the weather. But today, none of that is possible. 

His day has been off since he woke up at 5:43 in the morning, shooting up in bed after another nightmare about _him._

Most of his nightmares were about the man who had walked away with his heart so long ago. 

Well, not that long ago. 

Exactly a year ago, on this specific day. 

So of course it was shitty. Calum had tossed and turned in bed until his 7 am alarm rang and when he turned it off, his mind decided it was time to shut down. Calum woke back up six minutes before he was meant to clock in at his job with the city’s biggest publishing house. He had gotten up frantically, taking the time only to brush his teeth and and change into a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. He slipped on his worn out Vans and proceeded to run out of his apartment and straight to his car. He made it into his office half an hour late and it was then that he realized he forgot to lock the front door of his home. He spent the next few hours worrying about coming home to an empty house, inevitable thoughts about a robber stealing his few valuable possessions because he was an idiot who couldn’t get to work on time swarming his mind. 

He found it hard to focus on the script he was meant to be editing because he was so caught up in his own problems. When he accepted that he simply would not be accomplishing much on this shitty day, he had put his pen down wearily and gazed up at the window in his office. He noticed the sky was uncharacteristically dark and he glanced back down at his watch, thinking he had spent too much time trying to edit his work and somehow managed to do so straight into the night. 

4:12 pm. 

_So fucking weird,_ Calum thought to himself. 

Forty-eight minutes later, he packed the unedited script into his satchel, along with a couple of red pens and his set of sticky notes. He would have to finish going over it at home. He sighed, already resigning himself to an evening of correcting a seemingly mediocre story instead of curling up on his couch with a beer and a good movie. 

When he made it to his car, he pulled up Spotify only to find it not working. He closed and opened the app multiple times, even restarted his phone, and nada. He groaned loudly, throwing his phone onto the passenger seat and exiting the parking lot in silence. As soon as he made it in on to the highway, he hit ridiculous traffic. He realized that the lack of sunlight was due to black storm clouds covering every inch of the sky, consuming it and leaving no breaks for the sun to shine through. 

So that was full circle on Calum’s day. 

He sighs again, reaching for his phone and opening Spotify again hopefully. Not working, of course. There’s literally nothing to do at this point. Calum had tried switching on the radio but finds that every single station was playing only static. 

It was so odd but on this day, Calum couldn’t expect anything else. 

He lets his mind wander and it goes where it always does when he isn’t otherwise occupied. 

He thinks of blonde messy hair and impressively cherry red lips glistening with a thin layer of saliva. He sees that beautiful mouth open and emit a hearty laugh, loud and childlike in the silence of his mind. Calum can’t picture the surroundings, unable to place exactly where this beautiful man was in this memory. 

It isn’t for lack of care. On the contrary, Calum focused so much on him that he often disregarded the rest of the world. 

He is still envisioning his angel when said heavenly being stops laughing and instead cries out the noise of a siren. Loud and terrifying, Calum is jolted out of his flashback. He shakes his head rapidly but can still hear the awful sound. 

It’s coming from the radio. 

The sound continues to ring and suddenly, Calum’s car is moving despite his foot being pressed down firmly on the break pedal. His eyebrows shoot up, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he realizes what is happening. He has barely a second to process it before the ringing stops and an automated voice comes through the stereo. 

“We interrupt your programming. This is a national emergency. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has detected a significant environmental event that will impact the greater United States. You and your loved ones should seek out the nearest fallout shelter immediately. Please stand by for further area updates.”

Calum is still gripping the wheel, frozen until the ground beneath him stops shaking and his car comes to a stand still again. He lets out a shuddering breath, fear coursing through his veins as he picks his phone up, left hand still on the wheel for some sense of security. 

He has spent a lot of the day thinking about his angel and how now, a year later, there was no more communication between the two of them. They tried keeping it up for so long through texts and calls but they simply couldn’t go back to being just friends after everything they had gone through. Hell, they had never been friends to begin with. Calum knew he would love his blonde better half from the moment he met him. 

_Calum had been a boy, just shy of 18 when he met him. He had been sitting on a park bench, enjoying a styrofoam cup of watered-down hot chocolate from the gas station across the street. It was could outside, forcing Calum to be bundled up in a puffy jacket and feet clad in two pairs of socks, but he insisted on being at his favorite park for the first snowfall of the season. Calum was a particular young man. He liked what he liked, and two of those things were the blistering cold and snow. He was staring up at the sky when he felt the presence of somebody else in his perimeter. He looked down just in time to see a boy sit next to him._

As Calum thinks about this life-changing first encounter, he dials a number with shaky fingers. He has to go back and delete it a few times, too unsteady to get it right on the first try. He hits dial and waits anxiously for a response as his mind goes back to that snowy day. 

_Calum turned to face the boy. He was beautiful._

__

_Calum was a firm believer that men could be pretty and the stranger sitting next to him certainly was._

__

_He had pastel blue hair that looked disheveled and gorgeous green eyes. His eyebrows and light stubble were blonde, and Calum immediately tried to picture the boy with a full head of wispy hair the same color._

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_Outstanding._

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_And that mouth. Pouty cherry red lips that gave way to pearly white white teeth when the boy opened his mouth and stuck out his hand in greeting._

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_“Hi, my name is-“_

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The line clicks but remains silent. Calum’s heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears. When his angel doesn’t speak, he goes first. 

__

“Michael?” 

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*****

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Michael is sitting in his living room, a warm mug of homemade hot chocolate in his hand, when he feels the ground beneath his feet begin to tremble. He grimaces, having been expecting this for days. He had been tracking the news all week, the way all the meteorologists described the odd weather patterns flaring up all over the country. 

__

Michael is a peculiar man, he thinks. He has always been different, refusing to accept things the way most of his peers do. He’s been dyeing his hair for ages, littering his body with tattoos and covering it in clothes that are usually black. 

__

He also had a knack for feeling things. He knew the earth was going to shake the same way he knew he was going to feel absolutely everything for the man that had forced him to walk away and leave his heart behind, a year ago on this specific day. 

__

As he braces himself on the armrest of his couch, which he conveniently moved away from under the light fixtures in the living room just the night before, he thinks back to another night on which he trembled, no thanks to an earthquake. 

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_Michael kicked open the front door to the apartment he shared with the love of his life, stumbling through it while dragging Calum by the hand. His boyfriend giggled, feet heavy as he followed Michael inside._

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_They had been out drinking all evening, celebrating their fourth anniversary. They had come a long way since that fated day on the park bench they now referred to as theirs. Michael’s lucky stars had aligned on the day he chose to take a walk to the nearest park to watch the first snowfall of the season come down. The park had been empty, as he expected with the dreadful temperature, except for one person._

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_Through the oncoming dusk, Michael could make out the shape of a puffy jacket-clad person sitting on a bench. My kind of human, he had thought to himself, walking towards the bench. It was a boy who appeared to be the same age he was. He was ridiculously cute._

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_Tanned skin, a mop of black hair streaked with blonde, crinkly eyes focused on the moon. Pretty, pouty lips. The boy looked down and stared at Michael, interest spreading through his face. A red blush dusted his cheeks, most likely from the cold, but Michael instantly hoped he could make the boy blush in more ways than one. He had stuck his hand out and introduced himself to Calum, perfectly named, and the rest was history._

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_Now, Michael and Calum were giggling drunkenly as they gave each other sweet and sloppy pecks on the other’s lips and cheeks and nose and chin. After a few minutes of lazy kisses, Calum leaned in to deepen them, gently tugging at Michael’s lower lip with his teeth. Michael gasped, pushing Calum back until he bumped the kitchen counter lightly. Calum let out a laugh, pulling Michael into a tight hug._

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_“Want you now. Here, on the kitchen floor,” he slurred. Michael had laughed, heart drowning in pure adoration for his perfect lover. He nodded, sliding down onto the floor and dragging Calum down with him._

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Michael is snapped back to reality by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He absentmindedly registers the fact that the ground has stopped shaking as he pulls his phone out and looks down at the screen. It’s an unknown number, but Michael knows. 

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He always knows when it comes to his perfect lover. 

__

Michael answers, momentarily unable to speak. He’s a man of many words but the fact that Calum is on the other side of the line after months of zero communication between them leaves his throat and mouth dry, rendering him temporarily speechless. It’s quiet for a few seconds before Calum speaks. 

__

“Michael?”

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The fear in his voice is painfully obvious, and that’s enough to kickstart Michael’s heart and mind. 

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He feels it all. 

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“Calum,” he breathes. That’s all he managed to spit out before Calum is speaking again. 

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“Mikey, angel, where are you? There was an earthquake, everything moved and I couldn’t get out of my car and-“

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“What the hell are you doing in your car, Cal? You need to get to safety immediately!” Michael cries, feeling the panic begin to seep into his body. 

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“I’m stuck in traffic! I left work and was trying to get home but it began to tremble and- and- Michael, are you okay?” Calum asks, clearly noticing Michael’s rapidly accelerating breath. Michael shakes his head, physically shaking the fear out of his mind so he can focus. 

__

“I’m fine, Calum, but what about you? Where exactly are you?” He asks, trying to keep the worry from setting in again. 

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“I’m about fifteen minutes out from my apartment. Should I get off and walk?” He asks. 

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Michael turns to look at his TV, the news showing a map of the most affected areas in their city. Of course their old apartment is in one of those neighborhoods. 

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“No Cally, the news is saying your neighborhood got the worst of the quake,” he whispers. He hears Calum’s sharp inhale and then his response. 

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“Fuck. What do I do, Mikey?” 

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He sounds so scared that Michael gives it no second thought before replying. 

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“Come here, Cal. Run to me, I’ll meet you in the middle.” 

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Calum begins to protest but Michael is quick to shush him, standing up to find his shoes. He puts them on swiftly as he listens to Calum on the other end of the line, hears the shuffling, the click of the seatbelt, and the car door as it opens and closes. 

__

“Okay, I’m going to start walking. Where will we meet up?” Calum huffs, the sound of alarms blaring, people shouting, and cars honking filtering through the line to Michael. The blonde boy thinks for a second, except not really, because he says “Meet me at our park bench, we’ll come home from there.” He hears Calum hum in agreement and they exchange short goodbyes, promising to see each other as soon as possible. Michael tucks his phone back into his pocket, grabs a jacket, and runs out, leaving the front door of his home unlocked. 

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He knows there’s no need to lock it because as always, he feels everything. 

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*****

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Calum is walking, carefully watching his steps as he goes. There are cracks in the ground and it looks like smoke is wafting from them. Even through the thick bottom of his shoes, he can feel the earth beneath him is hotter than usual. 

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Not good, he thinks to himself. Not good at all. 

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He can’t help but think of Michael, who is most likely also jumping over cracks and around the mini trenches forming in the ground to get to him, and he begins to run instead. As he does so, he thinks back to the dreaded night when he last saw his angel. 

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_Calum loved Michael with every cell in his body, he had from that first snowy night. The two boys had clicked instantly, in awe of the way they had both felt the need to visit the same park on that day. Calum was more dumbstruck though, and it seemed as if few things fazed the blue-haired boy. He had made a comment Calum didn’t understand at the time, something about his knack for feeling things and claiming that his lucky stars had aligned that day, but it was enough to spark a burning desire to learn more about the boy in Calum._

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_And he came to understand it very quickly._

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_He and Michael began talking every day, eventually hanging out just as often. Calum fell for this emotional beautiful boy so fast, it was like the rug had been pulled from beneath his feet with no warning. He loved everything about Michael. The way he scrunched his nose in distaste but also in pleasure, the way he talked too loud and laughed even louder. The way his breath hitched when Calum kissed the tender skin below his left ear and the way his bottom lip quivered when he cried, whether the tears were happy or sad._

_Calum could picture Michael’s lip doing just that when he saw the ring Calum was currently gazing at, hands pressed to the glass of the jewelry store counter. He could already imagine how perfect the blue stones on the engagement ring would look around Michael’s delicate finger. Blue like his angel’s hair on the night they met, sparkly like the glittering quality usually present in Michael’s eyes. It had been two months since their four year anniversary and Calum knew it was time to propose. He couldn’t imagine growing older with anybody other than his sweet, sweet Michael. He purchased the ring, opting to have it in placed in a pretty purple velvet box. He walked out of the jewelry store that day with his heart floating in his chest, absolutely giddy with that thought of what was to come._

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_It never occurred to him that he would never see the precious ring around Michael’s precious finger._

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_Things somehow went downhill after that day and they did so at an astonishing speed. It began with little arguments here and there, about whose turn it was to throw out the trash and why that person had forgotten to do so when they knew how the smell stayed trapped in their kitchen for days afterwards. They fought about what movie to watch, what takeout to order, why Michael left paint smudged everywhere he went._

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_The paint._

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_Michael has always loved painting and had expressed this to Calum on the very first night they met. Calum loved the way Michael stroked his brushes against canvases, softly, as if the canvas itself was Calum and deserved to be treated with the finest degree of gentleness._

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_But they were getting older and Michael’s refusal to get a proper job, opting instead to paint, blew Calum’s mind._

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_And on this day, that was what sparked their argument._

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_Calum got home from work, dropping his satchel on the floor and kicking his shoes off by the door._

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_“Angel?” He called out, waiting for a response. He didn’t get one and sighed, making his way towards the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich. He was halfway there when he felt his left foot step down into a warm puddle. He looked down, disgust flooding his mind, to find the puddle was pink paint._

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_Fucking Michael, he thought._

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_“Michael!” He yelled out, now angrier than he had been at work. There was just something about stepping in liquid while wearing socks that Calum couldn’t stand and the fact that it was happening in his kitchen was even worse._

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_Calum heard the door to the farthest room of their apartment open and close, Michael appearing a second later._

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_“Hi sweetheart,” he chirped, unaware of the thunderclouds swirling about Calum’s head._

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_“Why the fuck is there paint on the kitchen floor, Michael?” Calum seethed, watching Michael’s face fall._

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_“Oh- I’m sorry. I must’ve spilled some when I walked through, I came to grab water from the sink. It wasn’t on purpose,” he responded, treading lightly now that he sensed just how upset his boyfriend really was._

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_Calum scoffed._

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_“And you couldn’t pick it up?”_

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_Michael’s left eyebrow rose as he grew steadily more annoyed as well._

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_“You know what, Calum? I could’ve. But I didn’t because I was secretly hoping you would step in it and proceed to bitch at me instead of just letting me know like a normal person for me to pick it up,” he said, voice dripping in sarcasm._

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_If looks could kill, Calum was sure his annoying boyfriend would drop dead right then and there. He groaned and hid his face in both hands, feeling the beginning of a headache sneaking up in the back of his head._

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_“Just pick it up, will you?”_

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_Michael rolled his eyes, ever the audacious prick, and Calum watched him stomp into the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he did._

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_“What did you say?” He challenged._

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_“I said you’re a dick, Cal. You’ve been gone all day and you don’t even bother asking about mine, just get here all pissy, barking out orders,” Michael exclaimed angrily. Calum turned to find Michael standing in the kitchen with his hands on his hips, glaring at him._

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_“What’s there to ask? You were here all day painting, weren’t you? Instead of working a real job like the rest of us,” he spit out angrily._

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_Michael looked taken aback for a second, pain evident on his face before it went stone cold again._

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_“A real job? I paint, Thomas, that’s my job,” he replied, and Calum knew just how angry his boyfriend was by the way he called him by his middle name. Still, he fought on._

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_“Don’t you Thomas me when you know what I mean. Get a job with a proper salary, Gordon,” he snapped back, practically sneering when he called Michael by his own hated middle name just to be petty._

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_Michael looked furious at this._

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_“Fuck you, Calum,” he spit. The hurt on his face was clear and for a moment, Calum’s own anger wavered. He knew then he had hit Michael exactly where it hurt the most. He sighed in frustration before speaking up._

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_“I’m sorry, Mike. I had a shitty day and you know how I hate when you leave a trail of paint everywhere you go. That’s why I transformed the old office into a studio for you, darling,” he said softly, trying to wave some sort of white flag. It appeared Michael wasn’t taking it, though._

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_“I’m sorry your day didn’t go well, Calum, but that doesn’t give you the right to come home and start treating me like garbage. I don’t deserve that and you know it,” he replied, still very upset._

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_Calum didn’t know what else to say so he decided it would be better to just give Michael some space. He walked to their bedroom, ignoring Michael’s fiery “real fucking mature, Cal, walking away” and closed the door behind himself. He moved slowly, weighed down by yet another fight with the love of his life, and sat at the edge of their bed. He pulled open the drawer of his bedside table, grabbing the pretty purple velvet box that he had his under the mess of papers and books he kept in there._

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_He rolled it in his hands as he thought of what had just happened. He had been an ass and he understood why Michael had reacted the way he did but damn it, couldn’t Michael try to understand him? Calum didn’t ask for much, just little things here and there. One of those was an absence of sticky and gooey paint outside of Michael’s studio._

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_He sighed, returning the box to his drawer. Every argument pushed the day on which Calum could propose even farther away and at this point, Calum couldn’t even imagine the right time to do it. He stayed in the bedroom the rest of the evening, skipping whatever dinner he could hear Michael whipping up in the kitchen. He was hungry but he was also a man with a lot of pride. Michael hadn’t taken his apology and Calum wasn’t going to beg him to._

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_So when the clock on his bedside table showed that it was 11 pm and there was still no sign of Michael coming to bed, Calum turned out the lights and fell into a restless sleep._

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_He didn’t expect to wake up to all of Michael’s things gone from their home, Michael himself included._

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_Calum never could’ve fathomed that Michael wasn’t down for forever with him._

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Calum is brought back to reality when he feels exactly how hot the ground really is. He stumbles, hissing in pain. He begins to run faster, legs aching as he puts all his energy behind it. He’s minutes away when the ground beneath him begins to quake again. He screams in fear, forced to hop around as the pavement cracks and pulls apart before his very eyes. 

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He can’t stop. Not when his angel is out there too, so close he can practically feel him. 

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He keeps running, spurred on by fear and love for Michael. 

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*****

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Michael is running, hard and fast, nothing but Calum on his mind. He can feel what’s coming, more tremors and even lava, if the heat under his Converse is anything to go by. As he fights his body screaming at him to stop, he thinks back on the last night he saw Calum. 

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_Michael knew from the very beginning, he could feel, that Calum would be his forever. Something magical happened on that park bench the night they met, like nothing other than fate itself had brought them together. Michael felt that he was destined to meet his perfect lover, to know him from head to toe, inside and out._

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_And he did._

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_Michael came to know every little thing about Calum. The way he fought sleep every night until he physically could not keep his eyes open anymore, the way he fought the snooze button on his phone every morning when it was time for him to go to work. Calum was a stubborn train of a man, always moving at a fast pace. He kissed Michael first, he touched him first, initiated their first moment of true intimacy on his own. He was the opposite of Michael’s bubbly calm, but that was all the better for the blonde boy. They balanced each other out. For all the hard corners of Calum’s soul was a soft brush of Michael’s heart to round them out, to soften him up._

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_That’s what Michael was thinking about as he stared at the engagement ring he had had custom made for Calum by a jeweler an hour away from their home. Michael had been saving the money from over 50 paintings sold to be able to afford the designer he chose, picking her out after going through countless ring Instagram accounts._

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_The ring was beautifully made, thin and elegant with a citrine stone carved into an Asscher cut mounted in the middle. Michael knew how cheesy it was to propose to Calum with his own month’s birthstone, but he wanted his perfect lover to carry a piece of Michael everywhere he went._

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_He confirmed his approval to the jeweler and watched as she placed the ring in a green leather box. He placed it in his pocket gently and left the store, elated during the drive home. He couldn’t wait to propose to his boyfriend, feeling nothing but bliss at the thought of the way Calum would blush and say yes with tears in his quiet voice._

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_It never occurred to him that soon, he wouldn’t be feeling anything other than pain._

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_He and Calum began fighting almost immediately after the day Michael picked up the ring. It began with little arguments here and there, about whose turn it was to pick up dish soap at the convenience store and why that person had forgotten to do so when they knew how often they had to wash dishes and brushes. They fought about what dessert to share on date night, what detergent to use when throwing the clothes in the wash, the wet blanket that Calum seemed to carry everywhere, causing him to complain about virtually everything._

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_The complaining._

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_Calum had always been strong-willed, but mostly stubborn. He fought for what he wanted, but he also fought against what he didn’t. It could be difficult to deal with sometimes, yet Michael couldn’t help but admire Calum’s unwavering determination. It was one of the qualities that Michael loved most in his boyfriend._

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_But they were getting older and Calum’s refusal to back down in an argument and just compromise was coming off more childish as time passed by._

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_And on this day, that’s what escalated what should’ve been a misunderstanding into a full-blown war._

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_Michael had been cooped up in his studio all day, painting the center of his proposal. He stepped back to look at the canvas in front of him, setting the brush dipped in pink paint down on the desk in front of him._

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_It was a landscape of the night he had met Calum. There was their bench, illuminated by the light of the moon, small snowflakes falling from the sky. Those had been a pain in Michael’s ass to paint, his obsessive compulsive disorder in overdrive as he perfected each flake individually. On the top plank of the bench, he had painted the words “Will you marry me?” in swirling pink letter._

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_Michael smiled, overcome with joy at the thought of being with Calum forever._

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_He heard the door of their apartment open and close, followed by his lover’s voice calling out “Angel?” Michael grinned, wiping his paint covered hands on his apron before removing it to head out. He was placing his brushes into a cup of water when he heard Calum yell his name. He hurried out of his studio and into the hall, making his way into the kitchen._

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_“Hi sweetheart,” he chirped._

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_“Why the fuck is there paint on the kitchen floor, Michael?” Calum asked angrily._

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_The grin immediately fell from Michael’s face. He was stunned for a second, confused as to what his boyfriend was talking about. He looked down and saw Calum’s pink-stained white sock, clearly dipped in spilled paint._

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_Oh._

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_“Oh- I’m sorry. I must’ve spilled some when I walked through, I came to grab water from the sink. It wasn’t on purpose,” Michael replied slowly, treading lightly when he realized Calum was quite pissed. He heard the other man scoff before he spoke again._

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_“And you couldn’t pick it up?” He asked sassily._

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_Okay, this little shit wants to fight, Michael thought to himself._

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_“You know what, Calum? I could’ve. But I didn’t because I was secretly hoping you would step in it and proceed to bitch at me instead of just letting me know like a normal person for me to pick it up,” he shot back sarcastically. Calum glared at him like he wanted to strangle him. They stared each other down for a few seconds before Calum groaned, covering his face with both hands in obvious frustration._

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_“Just pick it up, will you?” He replied._

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_Michael rolled his eyes but went to do what he was asked, muttering his annoyance as he did. He was about to grab a rag from the sink when he heard Calum speak again._

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_“What did you say?”_

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_Oh for goodness’ sake, Michael thought. Calum was begging for a fight. Michael decided to bite._

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_He turned to face Calum, who had his back to him as he stood by the couch in their living room._

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_“I said you’re a dick, Cal. You’ve been gone all day and you don’t even bother asking about mine, just get here all pissy, barking out orders,” Michael exclaimed, now more angry than before. That’s when Calum turned to face him, fire in his eyes._

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_No backing down now, Michael thought._

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_“What’s there to ask? You were here all day painting, weren’t you? Instead of working a real job like the rest of us,” Calum said, practically spitting the words out._

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_Michael was seething then, steeling the emotions on his face._

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_“A real job? I paint, Thomas, that’s my job,” he replied, using his boyfriend’s middle name to emphasize that Calum was now on thin ice regarding Michael’s patience. He was hoping that would make Calum hesitate._

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_Boy, was he wrong._

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_“Don’t you Thomas me when you know what I mean. Get a job with a proper salary, Gordon,” he mocked, pulling out the name he knew Michael couldn’t stand._

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_Michael’s heart flared with hurt, replaced almost immediately with anger._

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_“Fuck you, Calum,” he said. He felt wounded. Calum always knew exactly what to say to have the most effect. He could see Calum regretting his words and tried to take them back._

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_“I’m sorry, Mike. I had a shitty day and you know how I hate when you leave a trail of paint everywhere you go. That’s why I transformed the old office into a studio for you, darling,” he said softly. But he had crossed a line and Michael wasn’t done just yet. He wasn’t going to bend for Calum, not this time._

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_“I’m sorry your day didn’t go well, Calum, but that doesn’t give you the right to come home and start treating me like garbage. I don’t deserve that and you know it,” he argued._

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_He stood still as Calum did nothing but stare at him. After a moment, he walked away, heading for the bedroom._

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_“Real fucking mature, Cal, walking away,” Michael called as he watched his hardheaded ass boyfriend enter their bedroom and close the door behind himself._

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_Michael was dumbfounded, unable to process what had just gone down. He stormed to his studio, slamming the door. He stayed still for a few seconds before letting out a frustrated scream._

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_“Fuck! God! Fucking men!” He shouted, kicking his easel. He watched as his proposal painting fell to the ground and couldn’t help but think that was exactly where his relationship with Calum was headed._

__

_He sighed and sat on the floor, back pressed against his boyfriend’s old desk. He put his head in his hands and wept quietly, out of frustration, anger, and most of all, pain. He felt every emotion tear at his heart incessantly. He just couldn’t understand why Calum had to be so mean sometimes. He knew what painting meant to Michael and to mock him for it, to bully him for the passion he once claimed he loved about him, was just plain cruel._

__

_After crying for over an hour, Michael stood up, eyes bloodshot and head pounding with the pressure of his tears. He walked to the kitchen to fix himself (and Calum- regardless of how angry he was, he wouldn’t leave his lover without food) some dinner. He made spaghetti and with homemade sauce and meatballs, but Calum never appeared to check it out. Michael ate quietly, taking advantage of the silence to just think._

__

_The ugly truth was that things between himself and Calum were fading, and they were fading fast. Of course Michael still loved him with all his heart and soul, but the constant arguing was getting to be too much. They used to work together perfectly, but it was as if someone had come in over night to change the shape of their life’s puzzle, the pieces of them no longer fitting together._

__

_Michael’s eyes burned again as he realized what that meant. He pushed aside his unfinished dinner, appetite gone. He moved to the living room and waited._

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_He wasn’t a religious person at all but that night, he prayed. He prayed to anyone that would listen to enlighten Calum enough for the boy to come out and talk to him. But at 11 pm, Michael realized no one was listening, because Calum never came._

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_And so with that, he dragged his uncooperative feet to the hallway closet and pulled out the pair of suitcases he and Calum used on their frequent road trips. He made his way into their bedroom and found Calum asleep._

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_How could he sleep knowing he had hurt Michael?_

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_Seeing his boyfriend sleeping as if nothing was wrong filled Michael with resentment and reaffirmed the decision he was making._

__

_He tiptoed to the closet with a suitcase in tow, walking inside and shutting the door behind himself. He pulled his clothes down from the hangers and out of the drawers, shoving all of it into his suitcase. When there was no space left, he zipped it up and walked back out of the closet. He wheeled the heavy case towards the front door and left it there, turning and heading back into his studio._

__

_He stood in the center, choking back a sob as he saw all the art on the walls. All the paintings were of he and Calum, or of places they had visited together. He began taking them down and placing them in a pile on the desk, shaking so hard that it became increasingly difficult to remove them from the wall. After succeeding, he gathered his brushes, paints, canvases, and aprons. Once everything was gathered on the desk, he grabbed the second suitcase from the hallway and deposited everything in it. When he was done, he stood in the empty room, feeling every single thing he had experienced in that studio one last time._

__

_Right before leaving, he had a thought. He pulled out a small canvas and one of the permanent markers he used to date paintings from the suitcase, leaning down on the desk to write a goodbye note for his once-perfect lover._

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_**Cally, we can’t keep doing this. It isn’t working anymore, you know? I will always love you but I need to go. Please don’t come looking for me.** _

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_**Forever yours at heart, Mikey** _

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_He left it on the desk and walked out into the night, two suitcases in hand, and didn’t look back._

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_Michael never could’ve fathomed that he and Calum weren’t meant for each other after all._

__

Michael is brought back to reality when he notices he’s only a minute away from the park. He does his best to ignore the heat blazing through the bottom of his shoes, running as fast as he can. He hears him before he sees him. 

__

“Michael!”

__

Through the ever-thickening smoke in the air, Michael sees a figure running towards him. 

__

“Calum?” He cries out. 

__

He watches as Calum crashes into him, the force of it making him stumble until the back of his knees hit their bench and he collapses onto it, Calum landing on top of him. 

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“Michael! I was so scared I wouldn’t reach you in time,” he sobs, clinging on to Michael so tightly it almost hurts. 

__

Michael finally breaks, tears pouring down his cheeks as he hugs Calum back just as tightly. 

__

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” he cries. Through his tears, he sees Calum nodding his head vigorously. He continues speaking, feeling the need to try and soothe Calum before it happens. 

__

“I’m so sorry I left. I never should’ve done that, we wasted so much time.”

__

Calum lets out another broken sob. 

__

“It’s okay, angel. I made you leave. I should’ve tried harder,” he blubbers. 

__

Michael shushes him, rubbing his back while he buries his face in his neck. He feels the ground splitting beneath their bench but doesn’t say anything as Calum speaks up again. 

__

“It’ll be okay, angel. We’ll be okay. You can move back in, or we can find a new place. We can be together again, just you and I, no more fighting,” he rants, only stopping when Michael presses his lips against his hard. 

__

Michael kisses him as if trying to steal the oxygen from his lungs. Quite the opposite though, he forces his last breaths into Calum’s mouth because of course he can feel it. 

__

He feels everything. 

__

The ground finishes splitting directly beneath the bench, pulling apart and then

__

**Author's Note:**

> That’s the end.


End file.
